The First Time
by Lif61
Summary: Jack is lured into a trap while on a hunt with Sam, and he experiences a new form of trauma.


**A/N: Written for one-word whump prompts on tumblr: torture.**

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Jack didn't know where he was when he woke up. He was on a table, tied and duct taped to it, that much he knew. And he was in a house, but that was it. Panic was thickening his throat, making it hard to breathe, stealing his air. It was as if a hand had reached inside him to squeeze his heart, letting the tension trickle down into his stomach. He was dizzy and uncomfortable and terror was shooting its way through his system.

He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there.

There was a thin blonde woman, dressed all in black, standing beside the table.

"Oh, good, you're up," she told him in a voice that he found quite pleasant for some reason.

"Where am I?" he asked, struggling against his restraints. They were around his wrists and ankles, around his collarbones, even his hips. Jack felt something tugging at his neck, nearly choking him.

She stroked a hand through his hair, making his breaths quicken, his lip curling in distaste. Only his dads were allowed to touch him like that.

"It's okay, sweetie. You're exactly where you need to be."

Jack snarled at her for her vague answer, surprised that such a noise was even leaving him.

He desperately wished for his powers, wished that he could free himself, and kill her, slamming her through a few walls of the sparsely decorated house they were in.

Her eyes turned black, and he groaned.

She laughed at his distress, and then said, going over to another table to retrieve something, "I can't believe how easy it was capturing you. None of your dads around to protect you, huh?"

Jack tried to remember back to it.

Sam. He'd been out with Sam, and something had caught his eye, so he'd wandered off. Now he realized it had just been a trap. His head ached as memories came back to him – something hard hitting him the back of the head, a bag being put over him, smothering him.

 _Sam will find me. I know he will._

For now, Jack would just have to endure.

He didn't know how he was going to do that. He'd never been in a situation like this before. He'd seen war, he'd had his Grace eaten by his biological father, but this – whatever this was – was surely different.

"Now," she began, "there are a few of my friends downstairs who want you, but I thought I'd have my fun first. Not every day I get to have a weakened Nephilim to myself."

Jack felt heat flush through him, sickening him, as she ripped his shirt off of him with one hand, leaving his torso bare. Then she held up what she had in the other hand – an iron comb with two rows of sharp, metal teeth.

"Guess where this is going, honey?"

"No. No!"

He wasn't listened to, and the comb was raked down his torso, from his collarbone to just above his pelvis. Jack screamed through it, his skin tearing, blood welling up. He was being ripped apart, torment eating at his body, teeth sharp, and hungry.

Luckily, the bloodied comb was placed down, and he was left shuddering, moaning, spit dribbling out of his open mouth. His throat ached, tears running down his face into his already-sweat-soaked hair. Jack found that he was freezing, even as hot blood ran over his skin.

His vision began tunneling as she picked up another device. Jack didn't recognize what it was, but he knew it was going to be used to hurt him. It was a bright yellow, the handle slim compared to the somewhat-rounded head. There was a trigger like there would be for a gun.

Jack opened his mouth further, to try and say something, but instead he found himself beginning to sob, chest heaving, tearing at the wounds already on his torso. He couldn't comprehend what was happening to him. This wasn't happening. No, he wasn't in excruciating pain, about to receive more.

No, no.

His dad was coming.

His dad was going to save him.

The device was pressed against his thigh, Jack shaking, sweating, and then she pulled the trigger.

A scream tore from his aching throat, voice guttural and filled with his torment. Oh gosh, it was excruciating. Soreness unlike anything he'd ever felt before spread out from the stabbing pain.

Jack couldn't take it, and he found himself calling out for Sam.

The demon fisted her hand in his hair, and told him over his cries, "Daddy's not coming."

He couldn't stop crying, and then the device was being used on him again, sharp metal driving into his skin, into his flesh, ruining, tearing. It sickened him that a being could be this cruel. He idly wondered if his biological father had ever done something like this. A shadow passed over his soul when he realized he probably had.

Excruciating sensation stabbed its way into Jack's leg once more, and then the demon was putting the device back down. She picked something else up, and Jack blacked out.

When he came to, his head was at an odd angle, and he couldn't breathe, the cord around his throat pulled impossibly tight, cutting into his skin. His body drew taut, and he tried to reach up to grab it, but he was secured tightly. The rope turned as something was twisted, and it tightened. Jack gasped for air, eyes nearly rolling back in his head, lungs pounding, pleading.

Black spots swam in his vision.

There was a loud noise, maybe a door getting kicked in. A gunshot, a scream.

The rope slackened and he gasped for breath, choking, and coughing. To his abused body the air in his lungs felt like poison, and he wanted to yell some more, but he didn't have the ability to. Strangled moans were leaving him. He heard something, Sam's voice, speaking quickly, in Latin.

The demon screamed, there was black smoke, and then she was gone.

"Jack!"

Immediately his dad was rushing over, untying him from the table, ripping the duct tape off from around his hips and collarbones. Then he was tying his belt around his left thigh, pulling it tight, and his jacket was off. He cradled him to his chest as he pressed his jacket firmly against his bleeding torso, making him groan. Jack reached out for him with trembling fingers, even as Sam held him to him.

"It's okay, Jack. I got you. I got you."

He seemed to be saying it to himself as much as he was to Jack.

Sam had his phone out now as Jack's vision started blurring.

His dad spoke into it, voice breathy and panicked, sickened, "Cas, I need you. Jack's hurt pretty bad. He… He got tortured."

Everything started falling away from Jack, and he didn't feel the need to hang on, knowing when he woke up he would still be safe.


End file.
